PRIDE

Pride goeth before a fall.  Or as the Proverbs 16:18 says “Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall”.    Sounds painful. 

My trusted dictionary defines “pride” as “a feeling or deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from one’s own achievements, the achievements of those with whom one is closely associated, or from qualities or possessions that are widely admired”.   My trusted Bible dictionary defines pride as “a conceited sense of one’s superiority”.   Now when it is put like that, pride doesn’t sound so good, does it? 

With all that in mind, I think we can all truthfully say that we have experienced pride one or multiple times in our lives.  In my 56.9 years it would be impossible to count the times I have experienced pride.  And pride can be a wonderful thing to experience in some forms but in others, not so much. 

I am always reminded of the teachings in the early time of the diabetes diagnosis.  Everyone teaching how to live with diabetes always tried so hard to teach the patient and family to be positive.  The thing I remember most (and still try to adhere to on occasion) is that you are never to call blood sugars “good” or “bad”.  You are to use the word “normal” or “not normal”.  Well, be as it may some days we are still in the “good” and “bad” mode, no matter what you call it or how you look at it.  So I wonder if one could say there is “good” pride and “bad” pride?    

Since I ended one of my last posts with a promise of a pride story, I decided to follow through.  When I was a young girl sooooo many years ago, I was one of the quiet ones.  Unbelievable now, huh?   I stayed a bit on the shy side, did very little that got me in trouble, and always obeyed my parents.  Well, almost always.  Lest I have implied perfection on my part, let me say there were a few times I had to be reprimanded.  But not many. 

The time I want to relate to is a time when I was in the 7^th grade.  When I went to school (Man, that sounds like I’m a real Senior adult telling a “remember when” story.), girls always wore dresses.  It was unheard of to wear pants or shorts to school.  It would get you in trouble.  Most of my dresses were handmade by my mama and my mema.   One of my favorite dresses was a two piece cotton—well most everything was cotton—that had brown, rust, and maybe green checks.  It was a skirt that was plain but that top was not plain.  It buttoned all the way down the back, had short sleeves, and had a scalloped bottom.  A scalloped bottom.  Beautiful.  I wore knee socks with it.   I was too young in 7^th grade to wear nylons as they called them then.   

Even though life was fashioned so differently then and even though I was shy, I still was like any other girl.  When a new fashion item hit the world, I shyly would wonder what it was like to have it.  The big thing at my school amongst the girls were these shoes that looked liked the white and black saddle oxfords.  The difference in these shoes is that they were two-toned tan/brown suede.  Not only that--there was a fringy looking flap that flipped over the eyelets and shoestrings to hide them.  Oh.  They were fantastic shoes.  And I wanted some.  Bad.

My family’s shopping venue was Kmart down across from the Big Chicken.  Back then it was the closest big department store around.  You could get everything there except groceries.  When we would go, it would be on a Friday night.  So this certain Friday night, my mama and daddy told me I could have some of those shoes.   Oh, imagine my excitement!  I dressed in my favorite two piece brown/rust/green two piece dress along with my knee socks.  I wanted everything to match perfectly.   We headed to Kmart.  I got my shoes and was so excited. 

After we had shopped we were going to the McDonalds on down the street.  Now back then McDonalds were few and far between.  They were “new” to the world.  This particular one was an original with those big yellow arches running from one side of the building to the other.   Oh, it was a fantastic place!  When it was dark as it was then, the lights from those golden arches lit up the world.  At this McDonalds, dine in had not appeared yet.  Fast food was just beginning .   If you "dined in", you ate in your car.  People didn't mind eating in their cars back then.  They were just glad to go out to McDonalds on a Friday night.  Or at least my family was.  So on this particular night, my daddy went in to get our food.   There was always a long line at McDonalds.    I wanted to put on my new shoes and my mama said okay.  I put them on and just gazed at them.  Ah...beauty.   Man I looked good!  Didn’t matter that my skirt hem almost reached the top of my knee socks.  I had on my new shoes….smooth, beautiful suede with a flap so the eyelets and ties didn’t show.  It didn’t get any better. 

So of course, when one wants to show something off, they have to go amongst people to do that usually.  I asked could I go in and wait with my daddy and mother said yes.  I opened the car door to get out.  It had just begun to rain a bit.  I stepped up the step and bebopped happily toward the door....sure that everyone in every car was admiring my new shoes and how great I looked in them. Oh, did I say that my new shoes had new rubber soles?  Uh huh.  They did.  And when my new rubber sole hit that wet slick cement just right and slipped right before I got to the door, my body went down.  My feet in my new tan/brown suede shoes sailed right thru that McDonalds glass door and I lay there on the floor in my beautiful two piece plaid skirt and scalloped edged shirt.  Oh, and my new shoes were toes up on my feet like that wicked witch’s red shoes sticking out from under the fallen house in The Wizard of Oz.  You all know the scene I mean and can picture it right now.  I lay there with broken glass all around.  Oh, I wanted the floor to just suck me under it.  I remember looking up and seeing my daddy as he stood in line look around and look down.  Shock.  Oh.  Sorrow.  Embarrassment.  He quickly helped me up and got me to the car.  Unhurt actually even with all that glass around.  The door was in ruins.  So was my pride.   

The manager was very nice and deemed it a circumstance beyond my control so my daddy didn’t have to pay for that door.  I can’t remember what happened to our supper of hamburgers and French fries.  I was too busy drowning in embarrassment and hurt pride.  My demeanor all the way home was certainly not one of excitement and the joy of those shoes dimmed a bit.  It was a time in my life that I NEVER forgot. 

I imagine not many folks have ever slid through a McDonalds’ glass door.  Hopefully you never will either but if you do, I hope you are wearing exceptionally beautiful shoes.